


Zombies Invaded My Middle School

by TheCharismaticWicca



Category: Zombie Parody
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood and Gore, Comedy, Gore, Middle School, Sarcasm, Violence, Zombies, sarcastic MC, true story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-15 15:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCharismaticWicca/pseuds/TheCharismaticWicca
Summary: Hey guys, so my middle school was over run by zombies. I don't really know where to put this, especially because the military people that rescued me will probably kill me if I speak to out. So I hope you like my totally *fake* ***wink wink, nudge NUDGE*** story.





	1. Chapter 1

Middle school is a strange place, but I have to say I never thought I would plunge an American Flag into one of my fellow peers. 

Now, before you scream at your computer screen, let me backup. 

It was third rotation for lunch and everything was normal. Boring, but normal. Imagine standing in line for way too long, remembering that you forgot to ask your mom for lunch money, getting a crappy cheese sandwich instead, and then sitting at a table with people who won’t be your friends next year. 

So, there I was, doing exactly that.

Until I wasn’t. 

I’m not sure where it started, I’m not sure how it started. All I know is that students came into the lunch room screaming their heads off followed by more students who were doing exactly the same. But the other students were stumbling, and growling, and foaming at the mouth. In all honesty, it was fairly gross. Bulging veins and gnashing teeth. The smell of terror mingled with the aroma of dried meatloaf. 

(Now that I think about it, I don’t think I ever remember the school making meatloaf)

It’s pretty safe to say that the room erupted into chaos. The teachers stationed around the room in order to keep students in check tried their best to settle things down. But, approaching rabid students attacking anything and everything in their path was a stupid idea. All they ended up doing was getting bit themselves. 

While all of this was happening, can you guess what I did? That’s right, nothing!

Before you get your panties in a twist, hear me out. 

When presented with a scene such as this, aka a group of raging zombified students and teachers launching themselves across cafeteria tables to munch on the brains of 12 year olds, you wouldn’t immediately pull out a shotgun and blast everything the hell. 

First of all, guns in school are illegal. 

Second of all, shock is a powerful thing. 

I know it’s stupid, but I couldn’t move. I sat in my chair, watching the carnage unfold around me with a half eaten cheese sandwich in my mouth like a goober. I distinctly remember locking eyes with the girl sitting next to me, Abby. A cute girl, quiet and kind. She lent me her mechanical pencil one time in Latin class. The pretty, expensive kind that kids never hand out willy nilly. Abby was nice, nice enough to let me borrow her fancy pencil. Nice enough to totally tank a zombie kid that leapt across the table and die. 

You would think that that would be enough to snap me out of my paralyzing stupidity.

You would be wrong. 

I was still just sitting there while Drew totally ate Abby’s brains right in front of me. Well, more to the side and on the ground, but you get the point. 

It wasn’t until I realized that the sandwich I was eating was no longer in my mouth. It was on the ground next to Abby and Drew, just sitting there. You might call me crazy, and you probably should because I couldn’t help but laugh. I’m not talking about a little chuckle here, I’m talking full belly bellows, doubled over with tears streaming out of my eyes type of laugh. 

You want to know why it was funny? 

I don’t know. 

It was more bizarre than anything. 

I mean imagine it, picture it in your brain. Get the image? Good. 

But that still didn’t completely snap me out of it. Hysterical laughter is a powerful drug. Or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know, I’ve never tried drugs. 

While I was acting like a complete maniac, I caught sight of someone I didn’t know. He was sitting at the table across mine, looking straight at me. Eyes wide and wet, hands trembling around his gogurt. I saw his mouth twitch and move, my brain somehow processed what he said:

“What the fuuuu-” 

Those angelic words sang in my ears and opened my eyes. They would become my mantra from that point on. In times of dark, I would remember those words. So, thank you, guy I never knew and who was murked before he could finish his sentence. Thank you. 

I wiped the tears trailing down my cheeks and looked around the room. Drew was still happily munching on Abby (who had stopped moving at this point), the zombified teachers were launching a siege on the cafeteria ladies, and the students were peeing themselves. 

No, I mean actually. More kids than you would think had wet stains down their legs. I don’t blame them, I’d piss myself too if I hadn’t been too busy laughing my butt off. 

That’s when I saw it, the holiest grail of holy grails, the icon of freedom, the symbolic print of patriotism, the American Flag. It was just hanging there, doing it’s thing, being an inanimate object. 

Now, I don’t know where you live, but in America we have our flags everywhere. And I mean  _ everywhere _ . One in every classroom, in the middle school House hallways, in the gym, the auditorium, the band room, but more importantly, most critically, in the cafeteria. Fortunately for me, my school had the flag in two corners of the room. Was it overkill? Probably. Am I going to complain? No. 

That sweet symbol of the United States, of rednecks and flamboyant liberals, of Hillary v. Trump saved my insignificant life. 

I would like to think I look liked a god, gracefully leaping across zombie students, running up the wall and ripping the American flag off it’s mounting, and then pushing off the white cinder blocks onto zombie Drew in a beautiful arc of athleticism while driving the hard point of the flag into his brain. Abby would then get up, somehow surviving her skull being ripped into, and I’d say, 

“Hey Abby, thanks for the pencil.”

Then I’d toss her her lavish mechanical pencil next to her and walk out with explosions going off behind me. 

In actuality, I just stood on a table and took the flag off the wall. I didn’t save Abby and I didn’t skewer Drew. I ran like a baby out the side door. 


	2. The Band Room

Okay, okay, I hear you. 

“Why’d you leave Abby behind!”

“Why didn’t you kill zombie Drew!”

“The American flag didn’t save your life if you didn’t even use it, dummy.”

I get it, and I say to that: …

Yeah I got nothing. Sorry. 

But what do you expect from me? Instead of getting on my case about how crappy of a protagonist I am, how about you re-examine the extreme societal expectations for people like me to throw out self preservation instincts in favor of potentially saving someone (which wouldn’t have worked guys, Abby was totally dead. I mean, Drew was  _ scooping _ her brains out). I’m sorry, but I’m just a kid. Just because I’m the voice of this story doesn’t mean I’m not a real person. Just think about it, if you were in this situation you’d either be zombie chow or running screaming from the room. You wouldn’t stab your plastic fork through your zombie friend’s eye socket during the first outbreak. Mainly because that’s a stupid idea and your zombie friend would totally eat you anyways. I’m just saying, don’t project your fantasies onto me. You’ll be disappointed. 

But back to me. 

I got out of the cafeteria by leaving through the side door. No one really uses this side door because the layout of my school is dumb and the hallway that it goes to is pretty much out of the way of any class rooms you would be in after lunch. Well, technically you can get back out to the main school by going left, but if you go right it leads to the back of the band room and auditorium. In my frantic mind, I went right instead of running into the main hallway and out of the school. Which turned out to be a good thing because the main hallway was already a free-for-all between zombies, students, and teachers. 

I burst into the band room, not because I knew that I would find a better weapon than my American flag (because nothing will be better), not because I knew that it was easy to defend, or any other obvious strategies. No, I went into the band room instead of fleeing the school because the one prevailing thought on my mind was how badly my mom was going to kill me if I didn’t bring my clarinet home.

Lucky for me, no one was a zombie yet. Unlucky for me, there was a class in session. 

There I was, flag in hand and breathing hard (not because I ran super fast or the hallway was really long, nah, I was just freaking out), staring at a sixth grade class while they stared back at me. 

“Parker,” Mr. Ranch the band teacher said, “what are you doing?”. 

And you wanna know what I did in all my infinite middle schooler wisdom? I didn’t explain that the zombie apocalypse was upon us, I didn’t tell the class to arm themselves, I didn’t scream “Lock the doors!” or anything like that. 

All I did was stare and pant. With a flag in hand mind you. Like an idiot. 

At this point Mr. Ranch was fed up, and I could see his confusion turn into self-righteous adult anger. You know the kind, when adults get fed up with kids and think they are being really stupid so they threaten punishment? Yeah, that kind of anger. 

Mr. Ranch stepped down from his podium and I could tell he was gearing up for a particular embarrassing lecture when the intercom came on.

I’m not going to tell you what was said, mainly because there were no words. Screaming, begging, the sound of blood gushing and brains being gnawed on, but no words. This is where Mr. Ranch stopped in his tracks, tilted his head, and went as white as a sheet of printer paper. A couple of kids in the class started crying, which in all honesty I find to be slightly dumb. I mean, they don’t know what’s happening, they don’t know about zombies running through the school tearing apart their friends. They haven’t seen anything yet, but a couple of noises over the intercom makes them burst into tears. Sixths graders, am I right? 

(Before you yell at me, I get that a staff member dying over the intercom is pretty scary, but still. If anyone in that room had an excuse to cry like a baby, it would be me. Wait. That came out wrong. Whatever, you know what I mean)

That’s when we all heard banging outside the band room door. Not the door I came through, so don’t get confused. This was a different door.

Mr. Ranch put a finger to his lips and made a motion with his hands for all of us to get on the floor. He switched the lights off and moved over to the door while all the sixth graders did as they were told with red eyes and runny noses. 

I didn’t get a chance to see what Mr. Ranch saw because the door windows are skinny rectangles, but I assume it was pretty bad because Mr. Ranch fainted. Crumpled to the ground, completely knocked out, dead to the world fainted. Out of all the dumb things Mr. Ranch has done (and there has been a lot, like screaming like a girl at the sight of a spider on his baton, or having an easy to find Youtube account full of really bad minecraft let’s plays), fainting during a crisis with a class full of terrified babies was the worst. 

Almost all the sixth graders let out one really loud unanimous wail. Which made the banging on the door increase, as I’m sure the zombies outside figured out that the room on the other side was filled with terrified kids. 

I’m sure a much nicer person would have comforted those scared little kids, but I didn’t. I had other things on my mind, like zombies coming into the room. I wasted no time pilling instruments against both the doors. I had a hard time dragging Mr. Ranch’s unconscious body out of the way, but the more competent of the sixth graders helped me out with that and started stacking chairs against the doors as well. 

After a while the other sixth graders quieted down and we all sat in silence, listening to the never ending thudding against the band door. Everything was going alright, I was surrounded by a small circle of the smarter sixth graders, confident in my ability to outrun most of them. It wasn’t until Mr. Ranch did another stupid thing did all hell break loose. 

What’s that stupid thing you ask? 

Well, in a barricaded room, with zombies outside, Mr. Ranch out-did himself. 

He died. 


End file.
